A Dragons Charm
by TheNerdyNanny
Summary: Paige Mathews just wanted to set a good example for her son. Professor Malcolm Drake just wanted to build a new life for himself and leave his past where it belonged – in the past. But other forces are at hand and sometimes fate works in mysterious ways.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Lucas! Don't run in the halls!" Paige called as she watched the mess of chaotic red hair disappear. A stampede of trampling elephants followed soon after as a half dozen hark haired children followed closely behind.

"Don't worry about it. I've given up on them. They'll burn through their 'out-of'school' high pretty quickly," Piper sighed with a tired but knowing smile. She leaned in to give her baby sister a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Paige gave a tired, long suffering sigh as three of the children in question came tearing through the foyer as they were chased around the house by one of the older boys. "Besides- this house has survived far worse than a hyper pre-teens."

"I suppose," Paige acknowledged reluctantly, though she secretly doubted even the source would be able to stand a chance against this brood. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"Honey, I've got three of my own plus all three of Phoebes and two or three of their friends here just about every day. And Lucas is one of the best behaved here!"

As if to prove her sisters point, Lucas had already settled down in the living room, his five year old cousin happily seated at his elbow. Lucas seemed perfectly content to play along as Patience pulled out one coloring book after another debating which one they should do first before a 'My Little Pony' book was finally selected.

"Paige," Piper called her sisters name gently until the youngest Halliwell finally returned her gaze. "He'll be fine."

"I know," Paige agreed only half-heartedly. She couldn't help but worry over the sake and safety of the quiet, friendly, ginger haired boy. But then again, she was knew to this whole 'parenthood' thing. Piper had been successfully raising children for over 15 years. Lucas had only been placed into her custody 8 months ago. Given everything the boy had been through, she was still reluctant to let him from her sight any more than necessary. "Just… call me? If you need anything that is?"

Piper nodded indulgently, knowing that the younger woman only needed a little more reassurance before she could make her way out the door.

"You know I will."

"Ok, I'll just… I'll just be going then." Paige had just reached the front door when she felt a pair of smaller but deceptively strong arms wrap around her. Turning in their grip she saw a familiar head of messy red hair wrapped around her middle.

"Good luck Paige. You'll do great!" Paige smiled, melting a little on the inside, before the red headed boy darted back over to the coffee table where his younger cousin was impatiently waiting for him to return. Piper smirked a definitive 'I told you so' at her younger sister, who responded by sticking her tongue out before disappearing out the front door.

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The grey waters of the bay lapped at the shore, the light reflecting off his mercurial eyes. The wind blowing across the choppy waters sprayed a fine mist over his shoulders, the wind whipping platinum blond hair into his face and eyes. He'd given up on slicking back his hair with copious amounts of gel like he once had in school. Partly because high quality hair gel was a luxury item he simply couldn't afford these days, and partly in an effort to differentiate himself from the pompous little arse he's once been. That wasn't the person he wanted to be anymore.

It had been twelve years since he'd seen English shores. He could still remember looking out across those gray choppy waters on the ferry from Lowestoft to Amsterdam. It had been easy enough to blend in with the hundreds of other students heading for the Netherlands to spend their holiday in a drug induced haze. While he wouldn't be joining them, even he had to acknowledge that the urge to just_ forget_, even for a little while, had been incredibly tempting.

These days, the view over the San Francisco Bay was the closest he was going to get to the English coastline. The weather here was a far cry from the unbearable heat he'd dealt with in India and Australia. The cool damp air was achingly familiar, Enough so that if he closed his eyes he could almost pretend he was back home at the estate, padding up for Quidditch practice, or walking through the streets or higher London.

"Professor? Professor Drake?"

The illusion shattered as he heard the soft voice of a student calling behind him. Closing his eyes against the choppy gray breeze, he took a deep breath and turned back to look at the shy, quiet girl who sat in the second row of his 'Economies of Medieval Europe' class.

"Ms. Bourdain. How are you?"

"I'm well Professor. I was wondering, that is, if you had a moment, I just, uh, I had a couple of questions about our last assignment?"

"Of course," he acquiesced with a polite smile. He could commiserate later. Right now, he had a student who required assistance.

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"Paige! It's been far too long." The slightly heavy set African American man said with a smile as he rose from his desk to shake her hand.

"You're telling me," Paige chuckled as she shook his hand. "What are you still doing here Mr. Cowan? I thought you'd have retired to Florida by now."

"Please, Paige. We've known each other long enough. I think you can call me Bob." He said casually as he sat back down behind his desk. "Besides, have you ever_ been_ to Florida?" Paige shook her head in the negative. "It's hot. It's muggy. It's full of tourists, mosquitos, and retired New Yorkers. Not my idea of fun. Besides, what would I do all day? Just sit on my backside and get fat and old? But you didn't call me up after almost fifteen years to talk about Florida now did you?"

Fifteen years ago that would have made Paige blush and fidget nervously in her seat. But she wasn't the same person she'd been fifteen years ago. So instead she just smiled knowingly.

"No sir. I actually came here to talk to you about a job."

"Finally getting back in the ring, huh?" Mr. Cowan asked knowingly. "I knew you couldn't stay away forever. We all heard about what you did for that Jacobs boy a few months back. It takes a damn special kind of strength to go to bat for a kid the way you did. Word is you've taken him in yourself? Looking to adopt?"

"I've been fostering him for almost a year now. We haven't talked much about anything beyond that."

"Uh-huh." Mr. Cowan responded non-committedly. "Look Paige, I'll be honest with you. I've got a couple of spots open for Assistant Social Workers and Children's Advocates- you know I always do. But we both also know that would be a complete waste of your talents."

Paige couldn't help but agree. She knew that all the work they did was invaluable, but it was also mostly grunt work. Anyone with a good heart, a strong back and a couple cups of coffee could do it.

"I don't know if you've heard of the Rowley Act? It was passed after you left the office." Again, Paige shook her head. "Basically, it requires that all Social Workers receive a Bachelor's degree and State Certification. And the last time we spoke, all you had was your Associates degree."

"It was all that was required at the time," Paige defended vaguely.

"Now look Paige, I like you. You know that. And we both know that you've got a gift for helping people." Paige waited for the punch line, the big cosmic joke that she knew was inevitably coming. "Now I could start you as an advocate _today _if that's what you wanted. Or…"

"Or?" Paige prodded cautiously.

"The certification program is only eighteen months. You could take the two years, finish your degree, and come back as the full Social Worker we both know you're meant to be."

Paige sat quietly for a moment. She hadn't been counting on this. Initially she had thought that even if there were no positions in the Bay area she could always work the next county over. But to need to wait two whole years before she could really start to get back to helping people again?

"Look, you don't have to decide now," Mr. Cowan interrupted her internal musings. "Take a day. Hell, take a week or a month even. But whenever you decide what you want to do, you let me know. There will always be a spot open here for you Paige- you know that."

"Thanks sir," Paige said distractedly, already rising from her seat to shake her former bosses hand. "I'll think about it."

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_In case you haven't noticed, this story is slightly AU. Some of this AU-ness revolves around Professor Drake, but we haven't gotten there yet. Most of what we've covered so far revolves around the sisters- particularly their families. So, for ease of understanding and future reference, I'm included my slightly modified family tree along with their current respective ages. _

_Piper (40) + Leo (?) = Wyatt (15), Chris (13) and Melinda (11)_

_Phoebe (38) + Coop (?) = Prudence (11), Parker (9), Patience (5)_

_Paige Matthews (34) + Unmarried = Lucas Jacobs (10) – Foster Son_

_Hopefully that should clear some things up. And yes, I've tweaked the sisters ages very slightly. But hey, my story- my rules._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_The teaser for my first original fiction is up! You can find it on my facebook page here or by clicking the url at the bottom of your screen._

_Likes are love, shares are hugs, and reviews are made of solid gold :)_

_Now, as requested, chapter two..._

* * *

"Now, compound interest rates were once considered not just unethical, but immoral and were condemned by the Holy Roman Empire. In fact, Roman law and indeed the common laws of many other early nations strictly prohibited compounding interest as '_usury'_, or unfairly beneficial to the lender and burdensome to the lendee."

"Professor?"

"Now, up until the thirteenth century, many of these laws remained. And it wasn't until the 1600's when Mathematician Richard Witt's published 'Arithmetical Questions'-"

"Professor?"

"Witt's work gave full mathematical computations of one hundred and twenty four separate examples in tables of 10%. Now based on that-"

"Hey Drake!" The young Professor jerked his head up from where he'd been fastidiously scribbling notes along the black board, white blond hair falling into his eyes as he glanced over at the thirty something brunet leaning casually against the open door way to his classroom. "You're class ended almost fifteen minutes ago."

Professor Malcolm Drake pulled a battered silver pocket watch from his pocket, examining the relic closely as he adjusted a pair of frameless reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. The quite giggles and titters rolling through his students didn't entirely go without his notice, however.

"Right, of course. Until next time then," he had to raise his voice as the assembled students instantly shuffled into action, collecting up papers and filling book bags in their eagerness to escape as he tried to give out that evening's assignment. "I want you all to review Witt's work on compounding interest before our next class when we will discuss _why _exactly compounding interest was considered so burdensome to those in debt."

He practically had to shout by the end, in order to make himself heard over the echoing footfalls of 120+ students eagerly filing out into the halls. A select few came and stopped by his desk amongst the slow stampede of students making their exit. Most asked questions about the assigned reading, or for insights into additional reference material. A few had concerns about the end of term research assignment. And a few, as always, came to hand in their course withdrawals. He was sad to see them go, as he always, but it was inevitable. So many people took this course as an elective stop-gap, to fill much needed credit holes in their degree requirements before graduation, and neglected to realize just how intense the course work would be. He'd fought with the administration for years to reclassify the course from an elective to a core credit, but to no avail. So as it was his single elective course could be used as an economics, writing, or history credit. He was hoping that the classes' reputation would eventually speak for himself, as his course was not for the faint hearted, and it seemed that the survivors were already spreading the word. He'd once heard an expression on campus, one which he sincerely hoped to encourage, that _'If you want to know what grad school is like, just take one of Professor Drake's classes'_. He wasn't sure it was entirely accurate, but still…

"Those more drop out's?" The brown haired professor who'd called his class to a close had wandered over towards his desk with the departure of the last of his students.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. A bit disappointing, as I'm sure at least three of them could have passed if they had only applied themselves, but it's inevitable I suppose."

"You can hardly blame them for not wanting to botch their GPA on an elective course that isn't even in their field," she pointed out reasonably.

"No, I suppose not," Drake sighed in agreement.

"How many do you have left?" the woman asked, more curious than anything else.

"Oh, uh… one hundred and fourteen out of one hundred and twenty seven. Although I could have had up to one hundred and fifty. Heaven forbid… can you imagine grading one hundred and fifty term papers? A hundred and fourteen is bad enough."

Professor Rebecca Summers smiled sympathetically at him but offered no false platitudes, and for that he was grateful. The tenured professor was a few years older than him, and had taken a keen interest in the younger Professor from the moment he'd started teaching here. At first he'd wondered if her intentions had been more… amorous. Something for which he simply was not ready to deal with at the time. A new graduate candidate starting at Stanford in the PhD program, teaching at the local City College in order to help make ends meet amongst his piles of student loans and TA responsibilities at Stanford, after having moved clear across the country and, prior to that, the world. He'd still been trying just get his feet underneath him, and though, three years later, he now stood on slightly steadier grounds, he was still relieved and eternally grateful for her friendship. He honestly wasn't sure if he would have made it this far without her help, especially after she'd argued the Stanford Board of Student Housing to waive the 'Under 25' age restrictions that allowed him to stay on the dormitories as a building monitor. There had been no way he would have been able to swing the rent on even a studio anywhere near the Bay Area, and with the stress of an additional commute…. Again, he was deeply ingratiated to her for her help and friendship over the last three years.

"So..." she prompted 'subtly'.

"So?" he repeated uncertainly, giving his sometimes odd friend a questioning look as he loaded the last of his things into his beaten up old messenger bag.

"So…" when he still didn't get the point she rolled her eyes and huffed, having apparently given up on whatever form of telepathy she'd thought she'd been performing. "So how's your dissertation going? Last I heard you were two chapters away from being done."

"I don't see how one could be 'two chapters away' from an end point if they do not know where that end point is," Drake pointed out with a long suffering sigh. "As I have told you before, repeatedly and on numerous occasions, it is a _work in progress_. I could have two chapters remaining or I could have five. I won't know where it ends until I get there."

"Oh please," Rebecca dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Like you haven't had the outline for this thing drawn up in iron gall ink since day one of your candidacy at Stanford?"

He flushed but didn't respond to her jab, changing the subject instead. "And what exactly are you still doing on campus? You're last class ended nearly forty minutes ago."

"Stalling," she replied simply as the pair strolled through the college center, watching the easy rush of students who had everywhere and nowhere to be, all at once. At Drake's raised eyebrow she finally abandoned her veil of mystery and clarified. "I'm meeting a friend for lunch at two at a café just down the street. No point in going home, I'd just have to turn around and come right back."

"Cheshire's or that new placed with the overpriced coffee?" Drake asked curiously.

"Cheshire's," Rebecca replied immediately. "You wanna join? My friend won't mind- she's always been a sort of free bird herself. The more the merrier."

"Ah, would but if I could," Drake replied. Rebecca rolled her eyes at him and his little smirk. He knew stuff like that got to her. If she talked like that it would just sound like bad grammar, but his soft English accent made it sound like Shakespeare or poetry or Shakespearian poetry or something. "No seriously, I have a tremendous pile of papers to grade. I just want to get on the bus and take full advantage of the next hour and twenty minutes. With any luck, I'll have at least half of them done by the time I reach campus."

"Only you would assign a ten page research paper before the add/drop deadline," Rebecca teased. "Come on, your ruination of young lives can wait an hour. Come to Cheshire's! Have lunch with us."

"How else am I supposed to root out the weak ones?" Drake asked, his voice full of mock pomposity. He was only able to maintain it for a few minutes though before he deflated in a fit of snickers. "I really can't though Rebecca. I'm sorry, maybe next time."

"Oh come on," she wheedled persistently. "It's just lunch. I can drop you off at Stanford after, I have to go that way anyways."

Drake narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "You have to drive over forty minutes outside of the city? What on earth for?"

"Just stuff," Rebecca tried to shrug off as non-chalantly as possible. "So are you coming to lunch then? My treat."

If that didn't set off an alarm he didn't know what did.

"You're treat? What on earth is so important that I apparently _must_ join you for lunch? You never buy," Drake stated matter of factly.

"What? Can't a girl just want to have lunch with her friend every once in a while?"

"You're trying to set me up, aren't you?" Drake stated more than asked, looking at the slightly older woman like a disapproving parent looks at their child.

"Oh for crying out loud," Rebecca groaned. "It's just lunch!"

Drake sent her a look which clearly said that he didn't believe her, and Rebecca's resolve slowly began to crumble. So she finally relented and sheepishly attempted a different tactic.

"She's really nice?"

"Thank you for the offer Rebecca, I really do appreciate you trying," Drake said, softening now that he knew her evil romantically inclined master plan. "But I really do have my hands quite full at the moment."

"I was trying to get you a different kind of handful," Rebecca muttered quietly under her breath, but not quietly enough. Five years ago that sort of comment would have made Drake go bright red, but he'd grown accustomed, if not exactly immune, to the brashness with which most American's treated sex.

"I will see you on Thursday," Drake insisted firmly as they parted, a victorious little smirk on his face at having dodged yet another bullet. "Enjoy your lunch!"

Rebecca watched him leave frowning softly until the young man in question rounded the corner of the next building and her expression turned to an irritated grimace. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

* * *

_For the Record: My Final Exams are this week and next. Do not expect any further updates until they are over and I have a bit of time to write._

_The teaser for my first original project can be found on my Facebook here, or at the url below- _

_ notes/ed-liaveannos/demons-in-the-dark-prelude/665595653572507 _


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